Many Waters

by Madeleine L'engle

  "That's better," Sandy said.

  "Hey!"

  The ground seemed to shudder under their feet. Dennys flailed his arms to try to keep his balance, but was flung to the ground. "Is this an earthquake or something?"

  Sandy, too, was thrown down. Around them they could hear a noisy grating of rock, and a deep, thunderous roaring beneath them. Then there was silence, abrupt and complete. The rock steadied under them. The earthquake, or whatever it was, had lasted less than a minute, but it had been of sufficient force to push up a large section of rock, making a small cliff about six feet high. It was striated and raw-looking, but it provided a shadow that stretched across the sand.

  Both boys climbed to their feet and headed into the welcome shade. Sandy touched the sheared-off rock, and it felt cool. "Maybe we could sit here for a minute ..."

  The sun was still fiercely hot, but the slab of rock they sat on was cool. The relief of the shade was so great that for a few minutes they sat in silence. Their bodies were slippery with sweat; it trickled into their eyes. They sat without moving, trying to take every advantage of the shade.

  "I don't know what's going to happen next, but whatever it is, I'm not likely to be surprised," Sandy said at last. "Are you sure it was Dad's experiment we weren't supposed to interrupt? Couldn't it have been Mother's?"

  "Mother's doing something with subatomic particles again," Dennys said. "Last night at dinner, she spent most of the time talking about virtual particles."

  "It sounded crazy to me," Sandy said. "Particles which have a tendency to life."

  "That's right." Dennys nodded. "Virtual particles. Almost-particles. What you said. Particles which tend to be."

  Sandy shook his head. "Most of Mother's subatomic experiments are so, oh, so sort of infinitesimal, it hasn't mattered if we've come into the lab."

  "But maybe if she's looking for a virtual particle--" Dennys sounded hopeful.

  "No. It sounds to me more like something of Dad's. It was just sort of wishful thinking when I asked if it could be something of Mother's. Why didn't we see that notice on the door?"

  "Yeah. Why?"

  "And I wish our parents did ordinary things," Sandy complained. "If Dad were a plumber or an electrician, and if Mother were somebody's secretary, it would be a lot easier for us."

  "And we wouldn't have to be such great athletes and good guys at school," Dennys agreed. "And--" He broke off as the earth started to tremble again. It was a brief tremor, with no heaving of stones, but both boys sprang to their feet.

  "Hey!" Sandy jumped, almost knocking Dennys over.

  From behind the rock cliff came a very small person, perhaps four feet tall. Not a child. He was firmly muscled, darkly tanned, and there was a down of hair across his upper lip and on his chin. He wore a loincloth, with a small pouch at the waist. As he saw them, he reached for the pouch in a swift, alarmed gesture.

  "Hey, wait." Sandy held up his open hands, palm forward.

  Dennys repeated the gesture. "We won't hurt you."

  "Who are you?" Sandy asked.

  "Where are we?" Dennys added.

  The small man looked at them in mingled curiosity and fear. "Giants!" he cried. He had a man's voice, a young man's voice, deeper than Sandy's or Dennys's.

  Sandy shook his head. "We're not giants."

  "We're boys," Dennys augmented. "Who are you?"

  The young man touched himself lightly on the forehead. "Japheth."

  "That's your name?" Sandy asked.

  He touched his forehead again. "Japheth."

  Perhaps this was the custom of the country, wherever in the universe it was. Sandy touched his own forehead.

  "Alexander. Sandy."

  Dennys made the same gesture. "Dennys."

  "Giants," the young man stated.

  "No," Sandy corrected. "Boys."

  The young man rubbed his head where a purplish egg was forming: "Stone hit me. Must be seeing double."

  "Japheth?" Sandy asked.

  The young man nodded. "Are you two? Or one?" He rubbed his eyes perplexedly.

  "Two," Sandy said. "We're twins. I'm Sandy. He's Dennys."

  "Twins?" Japheth asked, his fingers once more reaching for the pouch at his side, which appeared to be filled with tiny arrows, about two inches long.

  Dennys opened his hands wide. "Twins are when"-- he had started to give a scientific explanation, stopped himself--"when a mother has a litter of two babies instead of one." His voice was soothing.

  "You're animals, then?"

  Sandy shook his head. "We're boys." He was ready to ask "What are you?" when he noticed a tiny bow near the pouch of arrows.

  "No. No." The young man looked at them doubtfully. "Only giants are as tall as you. And the seraphim and nephilim. But you have no wings."

  What was this about wings? Dennys asked, "Please, J--Jay--where are we? Where is this place?"

  "The desert, about an hour from my oasis. I came out, dowsing for water." He bent down and picked up a wand of pliable wood. "Gopher wood is the best for dowsing, and I had my grandfather's--" He stopped in midsentence. "Higgaion! Hig! Where are you?" he called, as the twins might have called for their dog at home. "Hig!" He looked, wide-eyed, at the twins. "If anything has happened to him, my grandfather will--there are so few of them left--" He called again urgently, "Higgaion!"

  From behind the outcropping of rock came something grey and sinuous which the twins at first thought was a snake. But it was followed by a head with small, bright, black eyes, and great fans of ears, and a chunky body covered with shaggy grey hair, and a thin little rope of a tail.

  "Higgaion!" The young man was joyful. "Why didn't you come when I called you?"

  With its supple trunk, the little animal, the size of a small dog or a large cat, indicated the twins.

  The young man patted its head. He was so small that he did not have to bend down. "Thank El you're all right." He gestured toward the twins. "They seem friendly. They say they aren't giants, and while they are as tall as seraphim or nephilim, they don't seem to be of their kind."

  Cautiously, the little animal approached Sandy, who dropped to one knee, holding out his hand for the creature to sniff. Then, tentatively, he began to scratch the hairy chest, as he would have scratched their dog at home. When the little animal relaxed under his touch, he asked Japheth, "What's seraphim?"

  "And nephilim," Dennys added. If they could find out what these people were who were as tall as they, it might give them some kind of a clue as to where they had landed.

  "Oh, very tall," Japheth said. "Like you, but different. Great wings. Much long hair. And their bodies--like you, not hairy. The seraphim are golden and the nephilim are white, whiter than sand. Your skin--it is different. Pale, and smooth, and as though you never saw sun."

  "At home, it's still winter," Sandy explained. "We get very tan in the summer when we work outdoors."

  "Your little animal," Dennys questioned, "looks sort of like an elephant, but what is it?"

  "It's a mammoth." Japheth slapped the creature affectionately.

  Sandy withdrew his hand from petting Higgaion. "But mammoths are supposed to be huge!"

  Dennys saw in his mind's eye a picture of a mammoth in a nature book at home, very like Japheth's animal. Japheth himself was a miniature version of a strong and handsome young man, not a great deal older than themselves, perhaps as old as their sister's friend Calvin, who was in graduate school. Perhaps in this place, wherever it was, everything was in miniature.

  "There aren't many mammoths left," Japheth explained. "I'm a good dowser, but mammoths are very fine for scenting water, and Higgaion is the best of all." He patted the little animal's head. "So I borrowed him from Grandfather Lamech, and together we found a good source of water, but I'm afraid it's too far from the oasis to be much use."

  "Thank you for explaining," Sandy said, then turned to Dennys. "Do you think we're dreaming?"

  "No. We came home from hockey practice. We made sandwiches. W
e went into the lab to find the Dutch cocoa. We messed around with Dad's experiment-in-progress. We were stupid beyond belief. But it isn't a dream."

  "I'm glad to hear you say that," Japheth said. "I was beginning to wonder, myself. I thought I might be dreaming, because of the stone hitting my head in the earthquake."

  "It was an earthquake?" Sandy asked.

  Japheth nodded. "They come quite often. The seraphim tell us that things aren't settled yet."

  "So maybe this is a young planet." Dennys sounded hopeful.

  Japheth asked, "Where have you come from, and where are you going?"

  "Take me to your leader," Sandy murmured.

  Dennys nudged him. "Shut up."

  Sandy said, "We're from planet Earth, late twentieth century. We got here by accident, and we don't know where we're going."

  "We'd like to go home," Dennys added, "but we don't know how."

  "Where is home?" Japheth asked.

  Sandy sighed. "A long way away, I'm afraid."

  Japheth looked at them. "You are flushed. And wet." He himself did not seem to feel the intense heat.

  Dennys said, "We're perspiring. Profusely. I'm afraid we'll get sunstroke if we don't find shade soon."

  Japheth nodded. "Grandfather Lamech's tent is closest. My wife and I"--he flushed with pleasure as he said my wife--"live halfway across the oasis, by my father's tent. And I have to return Higgaion to Grandfather, anyhow. And he's very hospitable. I'll take you to him, if you like."

  "Thank you," Sandy said.

  "We'd like to come with you," Dennys added.

  "At this point, we don't have much choice," Sandy murmured.

  Dennys nudged him, then took his turtleneck from the bundle of clothes and pulled it back on, his head emerging from the rolled cotton neck, which had mussed up his light brown hair so that a tuft stuck out like a parakeet's. "We'd better cover ourselves. I think I'm sunburned already."

  "Let's go, then," Japheth said. "I'd like to be home before dark."

  "Hey--" Sandy said suddenly. "At least we speak the same language. Everything's been so wild and weird I hadn't realized it till--"

  Japheth looked at him in a puzzled manner. "You sound very strange to me. But I can understand you, if I listen with my under-hearing. You talk a little like the seraphim and the nephilim. You can understand me?"

  The twins looked at each other. Sandy said, "I hadn't really thought about it till now. If I think about it, you do sound, well, different, but I can understand you. Right, Den?"

  "Right," Dennys agreed. "Except it was easier when we weren't thinking about it."

  "Come on," Japheth urged. "Let's go." He looked at Sandy. "You'd better cover yourself, too."

  Sandy followed Dennys's example and pulled on his turtleneck.

  Dennys unrolled his flannel shirt and draped it over his head. "Sort of like a burnoose to keep us from getting sunstroke."

  "Good idea." Sandy did the same.

  "If," Dennys added morosely, "it isn't already too late." Then he said, "Hey, Japh--" and stumbled over the name. "Hey, Jay, what's that?"

  On the horizon to the far left, moving toward them, appeared a creature which shimmered in and out of their vision, silvery in color, as large as a goat or a pony, with light flickering out from its forehead.

  Sandy also shortened Japheth's name. "What's that, Jay?" The mammoth pushed its head under Sandy's hand, and he began to scratch between the great fan-like ears.

  Japheth looked toward the barely visible creature, smiling in recognition. "Oh, that's a unicorn. They're very odd. Sometimes they are, and sometimes they aren't. If we want one, we call and it'll usually appear."

  "Did you call on one?" Sandy asked.

  "Higgaion may have thought about one, but he didn't really call it. That's why it isn't all the way solid. Unicorns are even better about scenting for water than mammoths, except that you can't always count on them. But probably Higgaion thought one might be able to confirm where we thought there was a spring." He smiled ruefully. "Grandfather always knows what Hig is thinking, and I make guesses."

  The twins stopped and looked at each other, but the mammoth had left Sandy and was trotting after Japheth, who was walking toward the oasis again, so they followed. In the intensity of the desert heat, their limbs felt heavy and uncooperative. When they looked to where the unicorn had been, it was no longer there, though there was left in its place a mirage-like shimmering.

  Sandy panted. "I don't believe this."

  Dennys, jogging beside him, agreed. "We've never had very willing suspensions of disbelief. We're the pragmatists of the family."

  "I still don't believe it," Sandy said. "If I blink often enough, we'll be back in the kitchen at home."

  Dennys took one of the flapping sleeves of his shirt and wiped his eyes. "What I believe right now is that I'm hot. Hot. Hot."

  Japheth turned his head and looked back. "Giants! Come on. Stop talking."

  With their long legs, it was easy enough for the twins to catch up with Japheth. "We're not giants," Dennys reiterated. "My name is Dennys."

  "Dennysim."

  Dennys touched his forehead, as Japheth had done. "One Dennys. Me."

  Sandy, too, touched his forehead. "I'm Sandy."

  "Sand." Japheth looked around. "We have plenty of Sand."

  "No, Jay," Sandy corrected. "It's short for Alexander. Sandy."

  Japheth shook his head. "You call me Jay. I call you Sand. Sand is something I understand."

  "Talking of strange names"--Dennys looked at the mammoth, who was again butting at Sandy, to be petted--"Hig--"

  "Hig-gai-on." Japheth sounded it out.

  "Are all mammoths his size? Or are there some really big ones?"

  Japheth looked puzzled. "Those that are left are like Higgaion."

  Sandy looked at his brother. "Didn't horses start out very little, back in prehistory?"

  But Dennys was looking at the horizon. "Look. Now you can see that there are lots of palm trees."

  Although they could now see that there were many trees, the oasis was still far away. Despite their much longer legs, the boys began to lag behind Japheth and the mammoth, who were moving across the sand at an easy run.

  "I'm not sure I can make it," Dennys said, grunting.

  Sandy's steps, too, lagged. "I thought we were the great athletes," he said, panting.

  "We've never been exposed to heat like this before."

  Japheth, evidently realizing that they were no longer behind him, turned around and jogged back toward them, seemingly cool and unwinded. "What's the matter? You're both all red. The same red. You truly are two people?"

  "We're twins." Sandy's voice was an exhausted croak.

  Dennys panted. "I think--we're getting--heat--heat prostration."

  Japheth looked at them anxiously. "Sun-sickness can be dangerous." He reached up and touched Dennys's cheek. Shook his head. "You're cold and clammy. Bad sign." He put his hand against his forehead. Appeared to be thinking deeply. Then: "What about a unicorn?"

  "What about it?" Sandy asked. He felt tired and irritable.

  "If we could get a couple of unicorns to become real and solid for us, they could carry you to the oasis."

  The twins looked at each other, each seeing a red, sweating mirror version of himself. "We've never gone in for mythical beasts," Dennys said.

  Sandy added, "Meg says unicorns have been ruined by overpopularity."

  Japheth frowned. "I don't understand what you're saying."

  Dennys, too, frowned. Thinking. Then: "Jay's unicorns sound more like Mother's virtual particles than like mythical beasts."

  Sandy was exasperated. "Virtual particles aren't mythical. They're theoretical."

  Dennys shot back, "If Mother can believe in her way-out theories, we ought to be able to believe in virtual unicorns."

  "What kind of unicorns?" Japheth looked puzzled. "Is it because you're some strange kind of giant that there's all this confusion?"

 
; "Unicorns have never been a matter of particular importance before." Sandy wiped his hands across his face and was surprised to find that the beads of sweat were indeed cold.

  "They're important now." Dennys groaned. "Mother believes in virtual particles, so there's no reason there can't be virtual unicorns."

  "Hig--" Japheth urged.

  The mammoth turned and faced the horizon. A faint shimmering glimmered on the sand in front of him. Slowly it took the shape of a unicorn, transparent but recognizable. Beside it, another unicorn began to shimmer.

  "Please, unicorns," Dennys begged. "Be real."

  Slowly the transparency of both creatures began to solidify, until there were two unicorns standing on the sand, with silvery-grey flanks, silver manes and beards. Silver hooves, and horns of brilliant light. They looked at the twins and docilely folded their legs under to lie down.

  "Oh!" Japheth exclaimed. "It's a good thing you're both so young. For the moment, I'd forgotten that unicorns will not let themselves be touched by anyone who is not a virgin."

  The twins glanced at each other. "Well, we don't even have our driver's licenses yet," Dennys said.

  "Get up on them before they decide they aren't needed," Japheth ordered.

  The twins climbed each onto the back of one of the silver creatures, both feeling that this was a dream from which they could not wake up. But, without the unicorns, they would never make it to the oasis.

  The unicorns flew across the desert, their hooves barely touching the surface. Occasionally, where the sand had been blown clear and there was rock, a silver hoof struck with a clang like a bell, and sparks flew upward. Small desert creatures watched them fly by. Sandy noticed, but did not mention, some scattered bones bleached by sun and wind.

  "Hold on!" Japheth cried in warning. "Don't fall off!"

  But there was a sense, in riding the unicorns, of unreality. If this was no stranger than their mother's world of particle physics, it was at least equally as strange.

  "Hold on!" Japheth shouted again.

  But Dennys felt himself sliding off the smooth flanks. He tried to grasp the mane, but it sifted through his fingers like sand. Was the unicorn becoming less real, or was the still-blazing sun affecting him?

  "Dennys! Don't fall off!" Sandy shouted.

  But Dennys felt himself slipping. He did not know whether it was himself or the unicorn who kept flickering in and out of being.

  Then he felt something solid, Sandy on his unicorn pressing against him. Sandy's strong arms shoving him back onto the unicorn, the virtual particle suddenly real, not just something in the lab. His head hurt.